The Artist
by Mad as a March Hare
Summary: "In Paris our lives are one masked ball" Rating may go up On Hiatus
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or any of its songs or lines. I do however own ALL of my OC's and if you touch them I'm gonna bite you. *nom nom***

**Thanks to my amazing beta Fearless Fault for helping me fix these horrid chapters!**

**Sorry that Erik's not in this chapter, but I promise, soon. So please, bear with me! **

* * *

"Welcome to the Opera Populair Mlle. Moreau. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I will show you to your workplace."

M. Daignault's voice rang through my ears as I gazed around the grand foyer of the Opera House. I had been to a few operas in England, but none were ever housed in a building such as this. Walking behind the painter, I tried not to become so distracted that I did not hear him. I had a feeling that ignoring this staunch man would be unwise.

Walking past the main stage where the ballet troupe was currently working, I paused to admire the agility of the dancers. My eyes went wide at the show of talent and beauty. All the girls wore varying shades of white, pinks and blues. One girl caught my attention the most though. She was slim, with a head full of extremely curly brown hair and chocolate eyes. She moved with a grace that astounded me. She must have been well taught to say the least!

"-oiselle? Do you hear me?"

Turning to my guide and new supervisor, I nodded, embarrassed that I had ignored him. Giving me a pat on the shoulder, the sandy- blonde haired man laughed.

"Don not worry about it Mademoiselle! You are not the first one to be caught staring at the ballet girls! Though I should say, you are the first female to do so in such a…shall I say, awestruck manner?"

Grinning at my tomato red face, he led me into a large set of rooms behind the stage. The first room was full of colorful backdrops with men putting the final touches on them. The net room was again, full of canvases only this time, they were only half done. The final room we came to was stocked to the brim with all the makings for the sets, as well as paints and varnish. The men who were working, paused as we walked back into the first room. Turning to look at me, the older gave me a small smile as he explained to me my hours and terms of working.

"You are to be here at five-o-clock each morning except for Sundays. You will work until nine, here in the final phase of the process. You are the first woman to ever be placed in this position and I do hope that you will not let us down." Turning to the men who were still staring at me, he bellowed to them.

"Hey you lot! This is Mademoiselle Haydee Moreau. She is going to be on the touch up team with you and I know that you will do your best to make her feel welcomed and _safe._" He seemed to put extra emphasis on safe, as if it was of special notice. Calling over a black haired youth, not much older than myself, he introduced me.

"Mlle, this is M. Covet, he will be your mentor and guide for as long as you are here. If you need anything, you may go to either him, or come to myself."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Mlle." Said Mr. Covet, whilst giving me a full smile, "You may call me Benoît, or Ben if it pleases you." Reaching for my hand, he took it as if to kiss it but stopped when I shook his hand instead.

"It is indeed M. Covet, and please, since there is no need for formality, call me Haydee. I look forward to working with you."

Recovering from his shock, Ben laughed. "As do I."

Pulling me away from the smiling man, M. Daignault gave me a few final words.

"If you have any trouble with the men, contact me. I will not stand for it. Also, I have been made aware that you do not have any accommodations in Paris, is that correct?'

Nodding, I grimaced at the information. Since my arrival, I had been staying in a hotel near the Populair, and my funds were running short.

"I thought so. You will be staying in the loft above the workshop then. It is unoccupied and only needed when we are having rush jobs, so it is really no bother. I will have a cab bring your things."

"M-Monsieur! I cannot accept that!" I stuttered out. This kind of kindness was as unwarranted as it was unexpected.

"Nonsense! It is the least I can do for an old friend's daughter. Yes Mlle," he said, at seeing my shocked face, "I knew your father quite well. We were colleagues and friends…but that was a long time ago. Now off you go, you have work to do and I have papers to fill out. Your bags should be here in half an hour."

Still stunned by the generosity of Monsier Daignault, I walked, half dazed around the room, as Ben introduced me to the workers. Nodded and smiling as countless people shook my hand, I couldn't help but get over the feeling that I was being watched. Glancing around the room, I scoffed to myself. Of course I was being watched! I was the only woman in a room full of men!

Turning to Ben, I gave him the best smile I could muster with my nerves being in such a state.

"Shall we get to work?"

* * *

Hours later, I found my way to the little loft above the workroom. As M. Daignault had said, it was small. However, it wasn't cramped, and once I put away my trunk and fix the small bed, it felt somewhat…homelike if not comfortable. There was a dresser with a mirror attached, a small bed in the corner with a bedside table to the left and a changing screen in the farthest corner of the room.

As I began to unpack my trunk, I surveyed it's contents carefully. Everything seemed to be in place, thank heavens. You never know what might happen if someone were to go through my trunk!

Grabbing out my nightgown from said trunk, I slipped out of the cotton shift and into the comfortable linen. Flopping onto my bed I sighed as I remembered my day. Ben had been kind enough to introduced me to many people, including some of the ballet girls. Most of them were either snobbish or silly and I really had no desire to be around them. There were two however that I thought I might be able to become companions with. First there was a blonde girl named Meg, the daughter of Madam Giry, the ballet mistress, who had been kind, funny and really quite charming. Then there was Christine. She was the girl with the chocolate eyes that I had seen earlier in the day that had captured my attention. She was quiet and shy, but I thought perhaps, once I had the chance to know her a bit more, she would open up to me.

Overall people had been wonderful, except for the few who weren't (i.e a couple stage hands who thought it necessary to whistle at me and make rude gestures. I caught one of their names, Joseph Buquet, and I made a mental note to do my best to steer clear of him.) and I was more than glad. However, all throughout the day I had caught people whispering more than once about "the opera ghost" and "I wonder what he will do". It was starting to make me uncomfortable to say the least!

Turning over onto my side, I noticed a plain, white envelope with the oddest seal I had ever seen sitting on my bedside table. It was a red skull that was lifted off the seal; like someone had made a pop-out image. Wondering how I couldn't have noticed the letter before, I carefully pried open the paper, careful not to damage the wonderful seal.

My eyes grew wide from shock and then outrage, as I read its contents.

_Mlle. Moreau_

_Welcome to my Opera House. I was quite surprised when they allowed a woman to work in the scene department of my opera, thinking that you would have been better in the sewing rooms or even the ballet with your figure. And I find that I am still of that opinion. _

_I will give you two weeks to show yourself worthy of working in my Opera, and after that time, if you have shown yourself of use, you may continue on under a probationary period. If however, you do not show yourself worthy of such an honor, then you shall be removed from this place in the quickest possible way. My Opera is not a charity and will not be run like one._

_I have only a handful of rules that are extremely easy to follow, unless of course you are an idiot of the highest degree. _

_1.) __I do not stand for slander against myself, or my name. That being said, please refrain from spreading idle rumors that you women seem to be so fond of._

_2.) __You are not, under ANY circumstances to go into the cellars. _

_3.) __You are not allowed to go into box five under ANY circumstances_

_4.) __If any of the above rules are broken, you shall receive a strike against your name. After the third strike, a disaster worse than you can imagine shall occur._

_The last thing I have to tell you Mademoiselle, is that you are to discontinue any thoughts of friendship with Christine Daae. She is far above in every possible way, and it would be wise to remember this. _

_Fondest Greetings once again,_

_O.G_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from POTO (though I wish I did wahhhhhh) yada yada yada. Anyway, please rate and review :)**

**Again, thank you to my beta Fearless Fault for putting up with my poor grammar skills**

* * *

Pulling out a white shirt and dark purple skirt, she made her way to the changing screen and threw the items on hurriedly. Emerging, she stood in front of the mirror on the dresser and ran a hand through her thick hair. It was curly, but not enough to warrant the title of beautiful. In truth, it was just curly enough, and long enough, to be unmanageable. Throwing her reddish brown tresses up into a bun on her head, Haydee fought with a rather large piece in the front that never seemed to want to stay inside said bun. Sighing in defeat as she pulled on the unruly lock of hair, she finally gave up and tucked it behind her ear. Glancing over her reflection in the mirror, she gave herself a half smile.

She was not a beauty by any rights, but she wasn't exactly homely either. She was what her late mother called, 'an even mix of two worlds'. She had her father's reddish brown hair and high Roman nose, and her mother's bright blue eyes and small mouth (which never seemed to stop saying the most embarrassing things no matter what the occasion). She was slim in the waist, but when it came to her hips and chest she was a bit…overdeveloped to say the least. Her Aunt and cousin often referred to her as an hourglass with one too many hours.

Smoothing out her skirt, she put on her stockings and shoes. Grabbing up the letter Haydee made her way to Monsieur Daignault's office. Who did this _O.G_ think he was, sending her this sort of note? Christine, above her? Please! She loved the girl to pieces, but really! And that snide little remark about her figure was as rude as it was vulgar, and she simply would not stand for it!

Reaching the office of her employer, the brown haired girl rapped sharply on the wooden door.

"Come in!"

Needless to say, she didn't have to be told twice. Throwing open the door, Haydee strode into the small office and faced who was sitting at a desk that was far too large for the size of the room. Throwing the letter on the desk seal side up, Haydee watched as the green eyed man's face blanched. Taking this as a sign of guilt, she began her rant.

"I am sorry if I interrupted your morning Monsieur, but I thought that this should be brought to your attention. I found this" she said, gesturing to the white piece of parchment, "in my room last night after hours. I do not know who left it there, but it is unappreciated and uncalled for! Not only is it demeaning and hateful, but the sender went so far as to tell me to let certain connections die! Now, I do not wish to cause any trouble but I must say that I am mo-"

"When...where did you say that you found this Mademoiselle?" asked a very white M. Daignault , interrupting her impassioned speech. "Tell me exactly where you found it. It is very important."

Slightly put off at the interruption, Haydee raised her chin slightly as she responded.

"On my bedside table. It was sitting there when I went to bed last night. If this was someone's attempt at humor, I find it quite lacking."

Standing up from his place at the desk, M. Daignault walked over to the door and softly shut it. Turning back to her, the green eyed man placed a shaking hand on her shoulder.

"There is something I believe I should discuss with you my dear. It is an odd tale, but it is one you must hear."

Nodding as she sat in the chair opposite him, Haydee waited for the start of this 'odd tale' that M. Daignault spoke of. Sighing as he sat down, the older man began his story.

"I am honestly quite surprised to find that he contacted you Mademoiselle. I thought that perhaps you would be spared because of the inconsequential nature of your job here," here he was cut off with an outraged look from Haydee, " I mean no offense Mlle. I only mean that I had hoped that the Phantom would overlook you."

"The Phantom, Mousier? Surely you cannot be serious!" To actually believe such nonsense would be folly of the highest degree!

"Ah but I do Mlle. Moreau. You see, the Phantom, or Opera Ghost as some call him, hence the signature, _O.G,_ on your letter, is a true being. He leaves notes for the manager, and demands that box 5 be kept empty for him at all times. Some say that he has the face of death, with glowing yellow eyes that will hunt you. He haunts the lower floors of the opera house, the cellars and such. So you must be careful to never go down there, as the letter said. Now for the rest of it," he stated looking down at the note in his hands," I cannot say what he means by it, only that it would be wise of you to keep his words close to heart. It could be the life or death of you."

Haydee stared at her, what she thought, mad employer, with a petulant expression. "You speak as if this _thing_ were something to be feared. Instead of a man that quite simply is an arrogant sod!"

Alarm shot across M. Daignault's face at her comment. Shushing her as his eyes darted around the room fearfully.

"Quiet Mademoiselle, choose your words carefully! The Phantom has ears everywhere! He walks in walls and rafters, and sees things before they are done. Be wary of the phantom Mlle. Moreau. Always be wary lest a fate worse than your blackest nightmares befall you!"

* * *

Coming out of M. Daignault's office, Haydee rolled her eyes at the preposterous claims made by the man. A phantom that could walk in the walls? A fate worse than nightmares? She was not a child who still believed the stories told her at night! There was no boogieman waiting to grab her, or witches trying to steal her hair. Truly, the man must be mad!

Laughing at the superstitions of the French, the blue eyed girl made her way to the prayer chapel she had been shown the day before. It was still early and she had found that the best way to start the day was always with a small prayer. Both for herself- and her father's long departed soul.

Descending the stone stairs into the tired looking room used for the chapel, Haydee knelt down before the candles with the pictures of loved ones attached. Some seemed more worn than others, mainly, the candle for a certain, Gustav Daae.

_'This must have been Christine's father. Someone told me that he had died when she was a child. I guess we are more alike than even I thought...'_

Closing her eyes, Haydee began her prayer. She had always had the bad habit of praying aloud. Grandmama and Aunt Eliza had said that to do so was sacrilege and disrespect to the almighty, but Haydee didn't think so. Wasn't prayer just a form of communication? A conversation with her heavenly father? But then again, there were quite a few things that she and her relatives disagreed on.

Haydee tried her best not to sound impatient to the Almighty as she rushed through the Lord's prayer to get to her own thoughts.

"My father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come and may thy will be done on earth as in heaven. Give me this day, thy daily bread, and lead me not into temptation but deliver me from evil. For thine is the power and the glory forever."

Pausing, she waited a moment before continuing with what was currently preying on her mind.

"Oh Lord, help me. These people are just so, so, silly! They claim that there is a phantom here—a ghost, that haunts these halls making demands and threatening the workers and performers! I do not wish to sound ungrateful Lord, I mean, I am truly thankful for all that you have done. From helping me escape Aunt's house, to giving me my desired position her at the Opera. But Lord, I cannot handle the pure…silliness of these absurd ideas! Give me the strength not to lose my temper with these people Lord, and help me not to discount all their ideas for such…superstitious beliefs. In thy name, amen."

Opening her eyes, Haydee felt better about her day already. Getting up from her position on the floor, the blue eyed teen had the same feeling of being watched as the day before. Looking around the empty room, she simply shrugged off the feeling as her imagination. She did not have time for such foolishness. She had duties to attend to before her day officially started. Leaving the small chapel, Haydee went her way about her day, forgetting all about the odd feeling.

Little did she know, someone had been watching, and was…rather amused with the girls temper to say the least. And he was going to put it to the test.

"Let us see just how far you can go Mademoiselle. Let us see..."

* * *

**Thanks for reading guys! I know it's dry right now, but I'm trying to set the stage for the drama, so forgive me. I really like stories that are somewhat believable in how they play out. So that being said, there will be no spontanious kisses from Erik and no people suddnely falling in love. I am a firm believer in sexual tension and love-hate relationships, so yeah. I am however, a strong believer in fluff, so be somewhat happy, yeah?**

**Sorry that there wasn't really any Erik in this chapter (Yet again! Sorry don't punjab me!), but I promise, soon! Until then my dear, keep calm and Phantom on,**

**Ryan.**

**p.s RATE AND REVIEW PEEPS!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to the Phantom of the Opera, only my OC's :) **

**Thanks PhantomFan01 for my first review! You made me smile :) **

* * *

**HAYDEE'S POV**

The rest of the day had passed without incident, and I tired my best to put the conversation that morning and the letter far from my mind.

Benoit had been kind enough to show her exactly what it is I was to do (which consisted of touch up's and the detail work), where I could find her brushes and paints, and the papers that told what it was exactly I was to paint. He had then introduced me to a handful of her colleagues and I found, much to my surprise, that there were many of them that had wonderful personalities. I was, in fact, on her way to striking up a good number of friendships if I do say so myself.

Breaking for lunch, I was on the way to the kitchen and dining room, when I heard a voice call me from behind.

"Mlle. Moreau! Wait for a moment!"

Turning around to see Meg Giry and Christine, I broke out into a large smile. I was hoping to bump into them at some point. Stopping, she waited for the two ballerinas to catch up to me.

Curtsying as they approached, I tried my best not to seem _too_ happy to see them.

"Miss. Giry, Miss. Daae! A pleasure to see you both again so soon. I had rather hoped that we would meet again."

Meg laughed at my little speech. Giving me a playful curtsy in return she laughed then clapped my hands in hers as she replied,

"The same to you ! Though, I have to say, such pleasantries are not needed between us. There is really no need to address myself, or Christine, in such a formal manner. Call me Meg. All of my friends do."

Nodding, I laughed, "Then I insist you call me Haydee. It would not due for you to call me Mlle. Moreau. I am not used to such a title, and I don't think that I ever shall be!" turning to Christine, who had been silent up until now, I gave her a bright smile, "The same goes for you Miss. Daae. Please, do not feel the need to be formal while in my presence."

Christine simply nodded and gave me a faltering smile. There was something wrong, and she was trying her best to hide it. Had she received the same letter as myself? My eyes widened at the thought. For someone to play such a low trick on a girl so obviously fragile was simply revolting!

Taking me by one arm, and Christine by the other, we began to walk down to the kitchen. "You must join us for lunch Haydee! It will be so much better for you to eat with us then with someone you don't know."

Pausing due to the lack of movement from Christine, Meg turned to the girl.

Excusing herself and Meg for a moment, the brown eyed girl pulled her a bit away and spoke to her in a low voice. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't quite enough for me to not hear.

"Meg I must go. The angel said I was not to see her."

So she **had** received a letter then! And this time, it was addressed _Angel_? What was happening here?

"Christine! Don't be rude! She is simply trying to make conversation with us!" this came from Meg, who was looking a bit taken aback.

"I understand that Meg! I have no wish to injure her feelings, but I do not wish to be in trouble with the angel. He has clearly stated that he would not be happy with such a friendship."

Sighing as she put a hand to her forehead, Meg simply nodded. "Go then. I will tell her that you are feeling ill. But you must know that I do not agree with this Christine. Your angel may be from heaven, but I assure you, some of his ideas are not."

Eyes downcast as she turned and walked back up the stairs and into the ballet dormitories, Christine gave me one final look before entering. It was a sad sort of look, full of nameless emotions.

Turning my attention back to Meg, I smiled again. Trying my best not to look to put out, I questioned the girl.

"Where has Christine gone? I hope she is feeling alright."

"I'm afraid she is not feeling well." Said Meg, as she studied the ground beneath her small feet. "She said that she had a headache and would not be able to join us for lunch. However, she said to enjoy our lunch and not to worry about her."

This girl was a horrible liar.

* * *

Lunch had been filled with idle chat, from the scandal of last summer, to how much La Carlotta sounded like a giant toad. Meg and I parted friends after that short hour, and nothing was said in relevance to Christine or her mysterious angel.

Going back to the studio, I put on my smock (which was a size too small. They were not expecting a woman of such…proportions, as Benoit had so kindly explained to me) and picked up my brush and opened a can of gold paint that I had mixed before I had left for lunch. Prying off the lid, I gasped in shock. Instead pf the warm gold I expecting, I saw a muddy brown staring back at me. It had taken a good two hours to get the perfect shade, and then someone came and did THIS to my work! Feeling my ire rise, I counted to ten, and then counted to ten yet again. Grabbing up the can, I stormed around the room, questioning each man.

"You! Do you know who did this!?" I ground at the first man, a kindly Irish fellow named Abram, if memory served.

Looking down at the paint, Abram's face came up into a small grin.

"That I don't missy, but I 'spect that it was not of any of our doing."

Indignation filled me at the man's obvious amusement at what had happened. Spinning on my heel, I went on down the line of men, until each had been questioned. Each had either laughed, or patted me on the back and told me what a shame that my color was ruined, but none of them admitted to the ruining of paint.

Setting back down at my station, a sudden thought came to me. This was HIS doing! The man who left me that damned letter, and the same one who told Christine not to associate with me! My anger grew tenfold at the thought. How DARE he! To make idle threats was one thing, but to actually act on them was…was monstrous! What had my paint ever done to him!?

Stomping out of the room, I slammed the door behind me, much to the amusment of the men within, I'm sure. Storming my way to Box 5, I threw open the curtain covering the entrance and stood in the middle of the box. The warm smell of candlewax an roses with just a bit of damp, permeated the small enclosure. Glancing to the side, I saw that there was a magnificent view of the entire stage, and I tried not to let it distract me as I made my stand before my unseen foe.

I'm sure I must have looked a sight, standing there yelling at the drapes, but I felt much better after it.

"You! I know you can hear me! You who style yourself as the _Opera Ghost _to some and _Angel _to others! Listen to what I have to say! You have threatened me, caused the discontinuation of a friendship I would have rather enjoyed, and to top all that off, you've ruined my work! I have done nothing to you and yet you insist on making my time here a hellish experience! Well, I have something to tell you. You shan't drive me out. I am here and here to stay! Nothing you do shall make me pack up my trunk and take my leave. You have chosen the wrong person to start a war with Mousier. For I will win, and I shall do so without using any of your underhanded tricks."

Spinning on my heel, I stormed my way back to the studio. If this man wanted a war, it was a war he would receive.

* * *

**ERIKS P.O.V**

This girl amused me. First she completely denied my existence, and then declared war upon me. It was true, I suppose, that I had indeed ruined her paint. But that was simply just to see how she would react. And I must say, she had not disappointed me in the slightest.

Smirking to myself as I made my way back to the lair, I planned out in my head what our next 'battle' would be.

"Ah my dear little Englishwoman, what plans I have for you!"

* * *

**Muhahahahaha now we are getting somewhere! Anyone care to guess what Erik is going to do? Winner gets a cookie!**

**Sorry for the short chapter, but my muse is kinda killing me a the moment D: **

**Loves and kisses to all**

**Ryan**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing yadya yada yada ya. However, this is a longer chapter, so yay! And plus, it is EXTREMELY drama filled so ye be warned :)**

**Oh my... Fearless Fault, I love you. Thank you for being such an amazing beta! **

* * *

Haydee had been lingering a bit longer than normal in the studio, trying to finish the work on the elephant for the new production of _Hannibal _set to take place in a few weeks. Everyone had already left, and she was going to lock up everything when she was done and head upstairs to take a bath.

Grinning over the contents of the past few days, the girl chuckled when she remembered her latest 'battle' with her opera ghost. It had been especially grand, due to a rather bold feeling that she had that day. She had taken a small brush and can of bright pink paint and had made her way to box 5. She had then preceded to paint little pink roses and doves in the most unlikely spots, so that they would be found at the most inopportune times.

Haydee laughed when she thought of the face of her mysterious 'phantom' when he saw a little pink dove staring at him from the top of the celling.

Yes, she was now calling him _her _Opera ghost, due to the fact that over the past couple months; her dealings with the figure had steadily increased. They now had battles almost weekly, if not every other day. Every Tuesday, she would leave notes for him on the window ledge of the chapel, mostly about her day, and humorous stories about her family and would wait for a return note normally consisting of a story of distant lands and kings to show up at the same place on Wednesday morning.

Their little battles had started full of hate, but had slowly over the course of the past two months, merged into something different. Something almost…friendly. She had great respect for the phantom. His stunts had ranged from mixing her paint labels, to placing her trunk in the rafters for the stagehands to find, and most everything in between. For her part, she had started their war full of anger at the hidden figure, and that fuelled her to do some rather rash things.

Namely, she had found out from a somewhat reliable source that the Phantom would watch performances and practices almost every time. So, she snuck into box 5 and replaced the cotton in the seats with pins and straw. Needless to say, she received a letter letting her know that such an act was unappreciated, and that would be one strike against her name.

Haydee, quite honestly, didn't feel very threatened.

Over the course of the next couple weeks, Haydee collected a stockpile of information about the Phantom. She had tried talking to Meg, and had received very little information. It was like she was scared of the consequences of speaking of the so called ghost.

What she had received from the other ballet girls was a collection of rumors and ridiculous theories about the man. For she was sure that he was in fact, a mortal, and not some type of specter. For no ghost that she knew of, could replace her shampoo with a vile mixture of horse urine and dirt.

Some said that he had a deaths head; others stated that he had no nose and fangs, and yet others said that he had glowing yellow eyes. There was only one common factor in all the stories and that was that you were to never wander into box 5 or the cellars. If you were to do so, it would mean instant death (or so they said).

"Well!" laughed Haydee as she thought on those conversations, "I went into box 5 and more, and yet here I am! Surely there is nothing to their claims other than the stories told them by that vile Joseph Buquet..."

About an hour later, the blue eyed girl was just finishing up when she noticed the presence of another in the large space. Cleaning her brush, she called over her shoulder at the visitor.

"I am just leaving Mousier Dauignault. And yes I will be sure to lock up when I am don-" Her words were cut off when she saw that it was in fact, not , but Joseph Buquet standing in the doorway, leering at her.

Turning back around with an exasperated sigh, the girl continued on her work, calling out to the perverse man,

"What do you need Mr. Buquet? I am very busy and do not have time for your frivolous stories or flirtations."

Buquet was known for seducing the girls of the Populiar, and he had made it his goal to have Haydee. This irritated her to no end, but the man had never posed any real threat to her safety.

Hearing footsteps approach her, Haydee straighten her back, so that she stood at her full height. It was not much, but it would still put her at the same eye level of the man at least. Turning around to face the man head on, she shot him a glare full of blades.

Tossing aside her obviously hostile mood, Buquet gave her a wolfish grin. Walking a few steps more, so that he was only a few feet away from Haydee, he surveyed her full figure with eyes full of lust.

"_At-on jamais dit que vous, vous regardez assez bon à manger?"_

She could smell the liquor on his breath, even from this distance. Rolling her eyes, Haydee gave the man a sound of contempt. Who did he think he was? Turning back around and picking up her brush once again, Haydee concentrated on her work as she spat out her retort.

"_La seule chose qui ne sera, aller dans votre bouche Mousier Buquet ,_ _est la poubelle de la nuit offre à partir de ses bidonvilles." _

Fury flared in the eyes of Buquet. Taking quick strides towards the girl he grabbed her hair cruelly, garnering a pain filled cry from Haydee's mouth as her head was yanked back. Snarling into her ear, he hissed words in broken English into her head.

"You think you are so smart, playing hard to get. But I've heard the rumors Mademoiselle. I know the truth about your _Uncle_. So don't think for one moment you are going to fool me with your little 'good girl' act. You are more trash than the whores that are found on the street."

The next thing Haydee knew, she was being thrown onto the ground with a knife pressed to her throat.

"_Faites un son,_" he hissed into her ear as he unbuttoned her shirt, "_et ils seront en train de creuser ta tombe" _

Terror welled in her as tears poured from her eyes. Memories came flooding back, mixing the past with the nightmare filled present.

_'This can't be happening again. Oh god please help me. God Help me!'_

The lust filled eyes of Joseph Buquet were the last things she saw before the darkness took her.

* * *

She woke up in her own bed with a tear stained face and a nasty cut to the throat. Looking down, she saw that her clothing was torn and ruined with blood and filth. Apparently, once he was done, Buquet had cut her in several places on her legs and thighs as if to make his mark on her skin.

Glancing down, she saw that here legs were cleaned and bandaged, even though her dress was still in bloody shambles. Glancing around the room, she paused in fright when she saw a man sitting beside her bed with his head in his hands. He was a lean man, but his frame spoke of a concealed power. Clothed in a black waistcoat and cravat, he had what looked like a white poets shirt beneath. That paired with matching black trousers and shoes, he made quite a dashing figure. Turning her eyes to his head (she must say head, for his face was hidden in his pale hands), she noted that he had a full head of midnight black hair, slightly mussed, as if he had been tearing his hands through his hair in an attempt to calm himself. A long black dress jacket was thrown over the back of the chair he was sitting in and he seemed to be completely unaware of her state of alertness.

No...this man was not her attacker. That was someone else...she was safe.

Rolling her head painfully to the side to address the man, his head shot up before she had the chance to say a word.

His face startled her, to say the least. It was as pale as his hands, but not as pale as the mask he wore over the left side of his face. It seemed to be a mixture of leather and porcelain and it was stark white. It covered the entire left side of his face and ended just above his full mouth. A well cut jaw and cheekbones made him look aristocratic, while at the same time not making him seem haughty. But his eyes were what held her. They were a rusty brown with golden flecks throughout that made them seem like they were reflecting the very light itself.

"You are awake." His voice filled the room, a velvet sound that ensnared and surrounded Haydee like water.

Nodding, she went to speak, but a sudden pain in her throat made her stop. Lifting a hand up to her throat, she felt the warm cloth of a linen bandage wrapped securely around it. A questioning look filled her eyes as she looked at the man.

"You had a rather nasty _cut,"_ he spat the word like it were poison, "on your throat and I took the liberty cleaning the wound and bandaging it. I also did the same for the…wounds, on your legs. I hope you can forgive my indiscretion. It had to be done, and you were in no state to be moved to a hospital."

A bright red blush covered Haydee's cheeks at the thought of someone, let alone a man, tending to her. She turned away from the black clothed man. No matter how handsome, that was still a breach of privacy and she was not about to accept any apologies for it now.

The man simply nodded, as if understanding that she was too embarrassed to look at him. Standing up, he gestured towards the middle of the room.

"I brought up a basin for you to wash in. The water is hot, so I would recommend taking it now. I will be back in a short while to bandage your wounds again and speak to you."

"Mousier" she managed, turning her head back towards the man as he made his way to the door, "I thank you for your help, however indecent the methods. Now I must ask, what is the name of my savior, that I may thank him properly."

Turning back to Haydee, with eyes full of shrouded anger and pain and worry, the masked man smiled. A a cold shiver wound it's way up Haydee's back at the sight.

"It matters not Mademoiselle. Take your bath. I will be back shortly."

And with that, he left. Rising from her bed, Haydee stripped off the ruined clothing and gasped down at her bruised body. The obvious print of male hands covered her thighs and chest, and the sight brought a sob to her throat.

Haydee sank into the large copper basin in the middle of the room, trying desperately to shake the memories of the day away. She allowed tears to stream down her face as she chocked back a sob. She felt so dirty. Like she would never be clean again. She had felt like this before, when she was just a girl. But now, now that she understood what had happened…it made it so much worse.

Dunking her head under the steaming water, she tried to rid herself of the images invading her mind. One face morphed into another as she fought her way through what was memory and what was reality. Emerging from the water, Haydee stumbled toward the bathroom affixed to her bedroom as she vomited out the pain and disgust.

* * *

**ERIKS POV**

I was on my way to inspect the sets for _Hannibal, _and check in on my new found friend of sorts, when I found her laying on the floor of the studio surrounded by her own blood. Her clothes were torn and ripped, and it was obvious that she had been brutalized. Rage seared through my bones as I rushed over to the girl and stooped to check her vital signs.

Good, she was alive. Though she may not wish to be when she awoke.

Carrying her up to her room above the studio, I placed her on the small bed within. I rummaged through the cabinets in the adjoining bathroom for some gauze and ointment. Grabbing them up along with a basin full of water and some rags, I went back into the main room and bandaged them to the best of my ability. It wasn't long after that that she woke up.

"You're awake." The words seemed to come from my mouth before I could stop them.

The blue eyed girl went to say something, but stopped when she realized the pain it caused

"You had a rather nasty cut," The words tasted bitter in my mouth. The man who had done this would pay for it with his life when I found him, "on your throat and I took the liberty cleaning the wound and bandaging it. I also did the same for the…wounds, on your legs. I hope you can forgive my indiscretion. It had to be done, and you were in no state to be moved to a hospital."

What I had said was true, but I also knew that taking her to a hospital would lead to questions about what had happened, and I was somehow sure she would want to avoid a scandal.

A bright red blush covered Haydee's cheeks at my words. No doubt she was mortified that I had seen her in such a state of undress. She turned away from me with a stricken expression on her face.

"I brought up a basin for you to wash in. The water is hot, so I would recommend taking it now. I will be back in a short while to bandage your wounds again and speak to you." I had stood up to take my leave, when her voice called to me from the bed. Though rasping and filled with pain, it still was full of body and melodic.

"Mousier," she managed "I thank you for your help, however indecent the methods. Now I must ask, what is the name of my savior, that I may thank him properly."

Turning back to Haydee, it stuck me that she was not asking about her attacker, only the name of the man who found her. She wished to thank me? I only did what any human being with a working conscious would do. "It matters not Mademoiselle. Take your bath. I will be back shortly" and with that I left the room.

Standing outside the door for a moment, I heard her step into the tub and the sobs that followed. My vision went red as I went back to the lair to retrieve some more bandages and ointment.

When I came back, I rapped softly on the door. When there was no answer, I slowly opened the door to see Haydee dressed in her nightgown and asleep atop the quilts on the bed as if she had collapsed from exhaustion.

Her hair was a tangled mess about her face and neck, and tears stained her face. Again my anger swelled. How DARE someone do this to such a young girl! What had she done to deserve such an attack? Did she not pray to god? Was she not an upstanding person? Where was the justification in this?

I was shaking with anger at an unknown person by the time I saw her neck. Pulling away the soft, auburn strands, I paused in momentary horror at what I saw. A slice about three inches long marred her long neck. Luckily it was not deep, but it would leave a scar. Though I had seen it just an hour or so before, I still chilled me to the bone that someone could do something to such a young and innocent girl. Cleaning the wound, I bandaged it to the best of my ability as I tried not to concentrate on the rise and fall of her chest as she slept.

Turning away for a moment to reach for more linen, I caught it up and began working on her legs. Whoever had attacked her had wanted to punish her as well. He had left cuts all the way down her long legs, that would most assuredly leave nasty scars. I vowed revenge for the pain this…monster, had caused my dear little friend.

Just as I was finishing Haydee suddenly began thrashing on the bed and moaning. I had no other choice but to restrain her with my hands on her shoulders as she called out pleas of mercy and cries of pain.

"Please! Oh please, God no…I'll be good, I promise! I won't tell! Please! Please! No!"

Tears came spilling out of her closed eyes as she fought to come off the bed. Then as quickly as it had started, it stopped. She was still again. My hand moved from her shoulder and up to her cheek to caress the pale, tear streaked skin.

"_Qu'ont-ils fait de vous mon cher fille...Qu'ont-ils fait..."_

* * *

**Ta da! All done! I hoped you liked it :) I know the timeskip was kinda weird, and this wasn't how I originally planned their first meeting to go, but who am I to say no when inspiration strikes?**

**As always, please rate and review :) thanks everyone!**

**Ryan**


	5. Chapter 5

**Heya Creeps! **

**Ryan here, I just wanted to say sorry for the SUPPPPPPER long wait for this chapter. I can try and promise that it won't happen again (but I can't make any sure fire promises.) Again, I am super sorry and please please please except this token of me being awake at 4:30 a.m with no sleep the night before during the middle of a large conference where I was chaperoning seven screaming girls who wouldn't stop talking about boys. **

**It took a lot out of me. **

**BYe bYE!**

**P.s There is going to be a small trivia game at the bottom that you guys should do too!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera or any of it fantabulous characters. I only own my OC's and 'dat's it!**

* * *

Haydee awoke the next day feeling as though she had been hit by a train. Her entire body felt as if it was filled with a numbing fire that ate away at her very bones. Though, she couldn't remember why exactly. She knew that she had been alone in the canvas room last night, when someone had come in, but other than that, she couldn't remember. All that was there in her mind from that point to now, was a giant black hole.

Groaning as she pulled herself out of bed, the blue eyed girl stood up only to collapse on the hardwood floor. It felt like needles were being pushed into her legs, and as she looked down on the offending limbs, Haydee saw why. Her long legs were covered in slightly messed bandages. Peeling one back, Haydee gasped at the sight. Long incisions were cut into her legs in a crisscrossing pattern. Like someone had tried to make a _quilt_ out of her leg. Carefully taking off the other bandages, the same sight met her eyes. Lacerations, some short, others long, covered both her legs and thighs. Fear and anger filled Haydee's mind at the thought of someone being able to do such a thing to her. Memories came unbidden to the forefront of her mind, and it was all she could do not to scream in terror.

Dragging herself to her feet, Haydee ,made her way to the bureau at a painfully slow pace. Supporting her weight on the tall dresser, the redheaded girl gasped at the sight before her eyes. It was her face, and yet not hers. Tear tracks stained her blotchy face, and puffy eyes boasted of an unattractive swelling, meaning that she had been hit in the face. A gash on her left cheek a couple inches below her eye, cemented this fact. Her lips were caked in blood and cracking, as if she had been biting them with an extreme amount of pressure for a long period of time.

She was still staring at the remnants of her face when there was a slight knock at the door. Startled, Haydee jumped at the sound. Taking a quick glace around the room, she looked for something to defend herself with in case whoever had started his work on her body had returned. She was, however, pleasantly surprised when instead of a crazed madman, Madam Giry walked in.

"Ah," said the ballet mistress, "I see you are finally awake. But it is not good for you to be walking. Come, let us get you back to bed." Placing one hand under her elbow and another on her shoulder, Madam Giry lead the still shaking girl back to her bed before she had the chance to say otherwise. After she had been safely deposited back onto the small bed, Haydee looked up at the older woman. She seemed slightly…removed. Her eyes held a worried, yet apprehensive expression that did not bode well with the girl. It reminded her of something that she could not place.

"I suppose you are hungry?" Madam Giry's words cut off the redheaded girl's thoughts and drew her back to the present. Nodding, Haydee watched as the older woman made her way to the door. Suddenly a thought struck the girl. Perhaps Madam Giry knew what had happened last night?

"Madam." She called out in a hoarse voice, causing Madam Giry to freeze in her place, "Madam, may I ask you a question?"

Turning back around to the girl, Madam Giry made her way back to the bed and sat down softly on the edge. Placing her warm hand on Haydee's cold one, the silver haired woman nodded with a soft smile on her face.

"Anything _Cherie_."

Taking a deep breath, Haydee let out her question all at once.

"Madam, could you tell me what happened last night? I know that it must have been something horrible, my body alone could tell me that, but all I remember is that I was in the canvas room doing touch ups and then everything is black. I remember nothing else than small fragments of my dreams, which I know hold no useful information due to the sheer nonsense they hold."

As Haydee finished her small spiel, she glanced up at Madam Giry who had become deathly still. Shaking her hand slightly, Haydee called softly to the woman.

"Madam? Are you quite alright?"

Snapping out of her trancelike state, Madam Giry turned to Haydee once again. Giving the girl a smile and a pat on the hand, she nodded.

"Yes my dear. I am quite fine. Do you really mean that you remember nothing from last night?"

"Yes Madam, nothing. It is as infuriating as it is frightening. That is why I was hoping you could tell me what – or who, had caused this."

Nodding again, Madam Giry looked at the bedside table that held a small vial of water and a few bandages. Finding her voice, she asked yet another question.

"And these dreams _Cherie, _what do they hold? If I may ask."

Pulling herself up in the bed, Haydee nodded. Her dreams had been perplexing to say the least.

"You may, though I don't think you will find them of much interest. They are all nonsense really. I would much prefer that you tell me of the events of last night, for I solemnly wish to see whoever did this brought to justice."

"I understand your desire to have retribution for the pain inflicted on you, but your dreams may very well be an integral piece to doing that!"

Startled at the worried and rushed tone of Madam Giry's voice, Haydee relinquished the information on her dreams.

"Very well, though I can't see how they may help. My first dream was of the opera _ Hannibal_, the work I have been doing must have somehow seeped into my dreams. Anyway, I was Eliza, and Joseph Buquet was Rosorio. We were in act 8, the palace scene, where Rosorio tries to force him upon Eliza for her crown, when a man came in and saved me. I don't know who it was, but he was tall with dark hair and piercing golden eyes. But what was most peculiar about him, was that he wore a mask that covered the left—no right." Haydee paused a moment and closed her eyes trying to visualize the handsome man from her dream. Continuing her story, she opened her eyes again, "No…it was left. Sorry, my brain is slightly befuddled at the moment."

Madam Giry simply gave a short nod to her comment before urging her to continue her story.

"Well, this masked man saved me from that vile Buquet, and took me back to my room. Only we were no longer in _Hannibal _and I was no longer Eliza, but myself covered in something red and very warm. He placed me on the bed and told me to lie still as he bandaged me and cleaned me up. But then, when I asked his name, he told me he was no one! So you see Madam, it must have been that my dreams mixed with my conscious and created a masked man, most likely from the form of the doctor or man that bandaged me, and my thoughts on that ridiculous opera ghost story. Do you see now what I mean by nonsense?"

Standing up slowly, Madam Giry made her way over to the dresser and braced herself on the sturdy frame. Breathing slowly, the older woman looked back at Haydee with worried eyes.

"I fear that not all of your dreams are nonsense Haydee. There was in fact, a masked man who helped you. And there was indeed a man who forced himself on you. I am so very sorry my dear. I did not wish to tell you, but you would have realized it on your own soon enough."

Dumb with shock, Haydee sat still in the bed as Madam Giry continued her speech.

"There is in fact a Phantom, Haydee. And it was he that saved your life last night. Surely you know thi—"

"But that cannot be." Whispered Haydee, " There is no Phantom. It was simply Benoit or James playing games with me. It cannot be possible for a ghost to live in this place. Let alone, save my life!"

As she talked, Haydee's voice grew louder, making her throat burn. But she payed it no mind. This woman was speaking in riddles and nonsense, and she would have none of it!

"Madam," she said in a voice border lining that of a low roar, "I asked you for answers, not children's stories! I beg you in god's name, tell me the truth!"

"You should not raise your voice in such a way. You may damage it forever, and what a pity that would be."

Gasping as she snapped her head towards the door, Haydee's eyes became wide with shock and fear at the sight before her.

It was the man from her dream.

The Phantom.

* * *

**There we go. You are now in the possion of the worst chapter I have to date. I would have just scrapped it and wrote a different one, but I didn't have time and I wanted to update asap. Please don't hate me too much! **

**So anyway, you know what time it is now right? **

**TRIVIA TIME!**

**What was the name of Erik's Persian "friend" in the Original story?**

**Winner gets a cookie!**

**k, now go review and tell me your answer! Along with that you can put flames, reviews and comments :)**

**BYe bYE!**

**Ryan **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own phantom of the opera. Just like messing with Erik ;)**

Heya Creeps!

Sorry for the long wait (yet again). I had to take a trip out of state and my computer gave up the ghost! May you rest in peace Snickerdoodle...may computer heaven recive your electronic little soul.

Anyway, I wanted to say hey, (HEY!) and hope you are all doing well :)

Oh and Congrats to **Phantom's Lil Miss**for winning the trivia question! Have a cookie :)

Oh and trust me dear, all will be shown in time ;)

On with the show!

Love

Ryan

* * *

Haydee couldn't believe what she was seeing. It was just beyond comprehension.

After all, there was no Phantom! He was just Benoit trying to get to know her without actually talking to her. She was fine with playing that there might be a Opera Ghost, but when those plays turned out to be true...it was just too much.

"This...this is impossible."

The words came from the girls mouth before she could stop them. This man before her, this _phantom _was simply a figment of imagination. Nothing more! Hands grasped hair as thoughts ran madly across the plain of her mind.

"I assure you Mademoiselle, it is very possible." She could practically hear the smile in the man's words. That voice! That dark velvet voice that had calmed her the night before...no. It could not be true. It just simply could not be truth.

Shaking her head in a dogged effort to rid her mind of this dream, Haydee all but screamed from the blinding confusion of her senses.

"Haydee, child. Please, calm yourself." Madam Giry tried her best to calm the girl, placing her hands on her shoulders. Shaking her off, Haydee backed away, tripping and landing flatly on the bed. Dazed and in utter confusion, the girl looked blankly at the man taking up residence in her room at the moment.

He was tall, standing a good five to seven inches over her at least. His build was lean, but Haydee could sense a strength beneath his tailored three piece suit. Hair black as ebony shined under the reflection of the light from the windows, and his stark white mask shone next to skin almost as pale. He was the incarnation of all things dark and beautiful but she could not understand how it was that he was standing in her room. Surely it was a dream, a hallucination that her mind was playing due to the tragic events of the night passed.

Looking back up, Haydee suddenly knew that his as no dream.

It was his eyes.

Those golden eyes that harbored so much anger and pain. It seemed as though all the sadness in the world had collected and had made home in those haunting eyes. They were the one and the same as the eyes from her dream. There was now no doubt in her mind about who this man was, even if she didn't believe that he was the phantom.

He was her savior.

Finding her voice again, Haydee willed her voice to not shake as she questioned the golden eyed man.

"You were here last night." It was not a question, but a statement. It was fact, and all parties in the room knew it.

The masked man nodded. "Yes Mademoiselle, I was here last night. I hope you can forgive my indecency." While his voice had been filling the room, Haydee found that she could not think of anything else. It was intoxicating and smothering all at the same time. it held so much emotion while remaining free of anything decipherable.

Coming to her senses again, Haydee smiled slightly. Forgive him? When she (in all likelihood) owed him her life? Surely this man was joking! Standing on weak legs, Haydee shooed away Madam Giry's offer of assistance as she crossed the short distance to the masked man. Setting herself before him, she kneeled before her savior.

"You have no need to ask for my forgiveness Monsieur. It is I that should be thanking you with all that I have. You have saved my life Monsieur, and I shall never forget your kindness."

Erik was stunned. She was _thanking_ him? On second thought, it made sense. He had in fact saved her, yet he did it not for her thanks. He didn't know how to react to the fact that this stubborn woman, who had made his life nothing but hardship (well, that was a lie. He had enjoyed their little war immensely. He would just never admit it) for the past months was now kneeling before him.

Glancing at Madam Giry for help, Erik cleared his throat and fidgeted slightly. Crouching down so that he was eye level with Haydee, Erik placed a gloved finger under her chin so that she was looking him in the eyes.

Dear god, her eyes. They were so clear of anything but thankfulness and joy that it made his breath catch. Never before had he seen such an expression, and he doubted that he would again. Her clear blue depths held unspoken words and hopes, so much like Christine's that it took him a moment to recover himself.

Recovering from his mild shock, the golden eyed man gave the girl a small smirk. "You have no need to thank me Mademoiselle. I did only what any god fearing person would do. Nothing more."

Shaking her head Haydee felt her stubborn streak rise to the forefront of her mind.

"Nonsense Monsieur I owe you a great debt, and I will do anything in my power to thank you for your kindness."

At the sound of a throat clearing, both Haydee's and Erik's heads turned toward the now forgotten Madam Giry.

"As touching as this all is, you should be back in bed child. You are not well yet, and I fear for your health." The ballet mistresses voice was full of maternal authority and tenderness. Erik gave the woman a slight nod. She was right. Anymore talk and could ruin any potenteial for her voice. Rising from his crouched position, the Phantom offered his hand to the auburn haired girl.

Haydee grasped the gloved hand offered her, and attempted to pull herself into a standing position only to find that her legs would not hold her. She was narrowly saved from becoming very well antiquated with the hardwood of the floor by a hand firmly wrapped around her waist. Glancing up at the man who had kept her from falling with a sheepish expression etched onto her face.

"I am so sorry Monsieur, I did not mean to-"

Haydee was cut off with a gloved finger being placed against her lips. Looking back up at his face, Haydee caught sight of a slight amusement behind the stubborn fix of his eyes and mouth.

"Shh Mademoiselle. Do not speak. Your voice has suffered to much already. If you will permit, I will help you to your bed. Though I highly doubt you have much choice in the matter, seeing that you cannot stand at this present moment."

Annoyance and anger mixed in Haydee's mind, all thoughts of thankfulness put aside. Removing his hand from its stationary place on her waist, the stubborn girl made herself stand. She would not be told what she could and could not due by a man who wore a mask!

Turning on her heel, she slowly made her way back over to her bed with her chin raised and back straight. She was rather proud of herself. She had only wobbled a few times and she counted her little journey from the door of the room back to the bed at the far corner a success.

Setting herself down on the duvet, she glared back at the pair in the doorway only to see her would-be escort to shake with barely concealed laughter. The girls anger only increased at the sight. Giving a small shriek of frustration, she flopped back on the bed and pulled the quilts over her head. This only caused the laughter at the other end of the room to increase. Haydee had to admit that even in her anger, the sound of the masked mans laughter made her heart flutter with unknown emotion.

Peaking out from under her covers like a child (and maybe she was. She was certainly acting like one.), Haydee had to smile at the sight being played out before her.

Madam Giry was trying to quite a laughing Phantom all while trying to hold in laughter of her own. Nodding as she finally ceased the masked mans laughter, the ballet mistress turned to Haydee.

"I will be back with your dinner a little later. Please my child, try and get some sleep, ne?" Giving the girl one last motherly look, the gray haired woman opened the door and stepped out before looking back at the tall man.

"Try not to be in here for much longer. She needs rest."

And with that she left.

Erik nodded at the ballet mistresses words. It was true, the girl really did need rest, but he also had many questions that only she could answer. Walking over to the bed, he noted with a hidden smile that she was still fuming slightly. This girl really was too much to handle. Setting down on the chair opposite her bed, Erik waited until she had risen to a sitting position before he began.

"I assume you know my identity Mademoiselle." a nod was the only answer he received. "And I shall also assume that you know believe me to very much real and very much alive,"another nod, "Very good. Now I must say that this was not how I envisioned our first meeting. I had rather hoped that it would be on much better terms..."

Images of Haydee bleeding and bruised filled his mind causing him to growl slightly. If he ever got his hands on whoever had hurt her, their end would not be so pretty as they could hope. Nor would it be fast. Coming back to reality, Erik looked back up at his little friend. She had wrapped her arms around her knees and had her eyes closed against the harsh memories of the night before. A silent tear escaped from under her closed lid and made it's way, unchecked, down her cheek.

Something in Erik snapped. He was tired of seeing this girl cry. He was tried of seeing in her so much pain. Reaching out and covering her clenched hand with his own, Erik willed Haydee to open her eyes. When she did, what he saw broke his heart all over again.

Those eyes, those blue eyes that had been filled with such thankfulness not twenty minutes before, were clouded and glazed.

Letting go of her hand and running a gloved hand down her long tresses, Erik breathed out heavily.

"I will find him _mon cher fille..._ You will have justice. I swear it."

* * *

Erik only stayed for a little while longer, waiting until the frail girl had fallen asleep still grasping his hand. Finding his way to the ballet corridors, the Phantom waited in Madam Giry's room.

Sometime later, when she walked into her room, Madam Giry was not surprised to see Erik there. She had figured that he would wish to talk with her after seeing Haydee. She didn't understand why he was taking so much time with the girl. He already had Christene. What more did he want? But then again...Christine was not only his student, but was naive and silly. She thought of him as an angel, not a living and breathing man. She could never be the friend that Haydee was.

"Erik. What can I do for you?"

Erik was pacing her room, in an obvious state of agitation. Without sparring Madam Giry a look he responded to her question by posing one of his own.

"What kind of monster would do that to a child such as Haydee? She has committed no grave sin. She has no enemies. She is the embodiment of goodness and yet some beast has defiled her in every possible way!"

Sitting wearily on the bench in front of her vanity, Madam Giry shook her head.

"I do not know. I feel for the girl. But there is nothing we can do but try and help her pick up the pieces of her shattered heart and teach her to live again."

Erik had paused in his pacing. Giving Madam Giry a scathing glare, the golden eyed man grasped the chest of drawers before him so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"Nothing? You would have me do nothing?" He asked in a calm voice that sent shivers down the older womans spine. His anger was white hot, and she did not want to be on the receiving end of it.

"No," Her words came out whispered yet firm, "I would not have you do nothing. I would have you help this girl. Teach her to trust again. But I would not have you play God. It is not your place to end life Erik. You are not God."

Erik let out a hoarse, bitter laugh. Sneering at Madam Giry he responded to her virtue filled speech.

"Oh? And yet somehow it doesn't seem like God has been very just."

Ignoring the Phantoms words, she chose instead to bring his attention to something else.

"At any rate, she is no longer safe at the Populair. She must be relocated at once lest whoever...hurt her, come back."

Releasing his white knuckle grip on the dresser, Erik took a step back and ran a hand down his face. She was right, of course.

"But something tells me she won't want to leave so quickly."

Madam Giry nodded. "Yes, thats why I was thinking she could stay with you." Seeing the surprise and hesitation cross the Phantoms face, Madam Giry quickly hurried on with what she meant.

"Only until we locate and bring her attacker to justice. That way she can still work and be content, while still remaining safe. it is the mot logical way Erik. Not even you can deny that."

Sighing Erik ran a hand through his hair. She was right. This way Haydee would be safe while still having her silly pride remain intact.

Finally nodding, Erik turned to leave. He had preparations to make if she was to stay at his home.

Catching his sleeve, Madam Giry waited until he had turned his head to look at her before beginning. "

Do not let thoughts revenge and anger consume you Erik. Do not let your heart be filled with hate."

Turning away, the Phantom opened the door of room with a sad smile played across his noble features.

"It is too late for that Madam. It is far, far to late."

* * *

Until next time freaks!

love Ryan


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't own POTO or any of its wonderful characters. **

* * *

Hey everyone!

Well, are you suprised? Two updates in two days WHOOOOOOOOO! And this chapter is even long :) Though...it is mostly fluff and really holds no IMPORTANT plot, it's still somewhat good :)

Thanks to all my reviewers, and I hope you enjoy this chappie!

Later Freaks,

Ryan

* * *

It was all she could do not to cry.

The pain searing through her body was making her double in on herself, and the words echoing through her mind seemed to cut her with every pass. Curled up under the many duvets and quilts covering her bed, Haydee grasped her knees as if to protect herself from the painful memories.

_"It's your fault your mother died. If you weren't so greedy, then she would still be alive."_

_"I won't hurt you Haydee. I just want to play with you."_

_"Silence stupid girl! How dare you make such monstrous claims against your own family! You lying little wretch!"_

_"Filthy little half breed. Not good for anything but eating our food and stealing our money."_

_"You will be leaving for the Asylum in the morning. I cannot have a liar and seductress in my home. Do not try to contact this family again. You are nothing but a disgrace to our name."_

_"I love you Haydee. Never forget my dear; Mamma and Papa love you so much. Be happy little one. Be happy and thrive."_

A sob erupted from Haydee's chest. Why Mama? Why did you and Papa have to leave me? Why did you leave me in that place, all alone? Did you not know? I want to be happy Mama, but it seems like God has other plans for me…

Another sob tore its way through the girl's throat. Letting go of her white knuckle grip on her tears, Haydee let them stream down her cheeks unchecked as she fell into a fitful sleep.

oOo

* * *

It was long after midnight by the time Erik made his way back to Madam Giry's bedroom. He had finished preparations for Haydee to stay with him in his lair. During that time, Madam Giry had explained something that held semblance of the situation to M. Daignault and the M. _le Manager_ so that they were not suspicious as to the disappearance of the artist. If he was to understand it correctly, the story was that she had fallen ill and would not be able to come to work for several weeks. Influenza was the cause he believed.

Rapping lightly on the hidden panel in the ballet mistress room, he waited for the older woman to open the wooden door before making his entrance.

Stepping out lightly, Erik nodded at Madam Giry's tight expression. The poor woman was as conflicted as he was about this. After all, letting someone know about his lair, let alone a woman, was a dangerous game indeed. Anything could be in the cards. Haydee may run scared and give away his secret, or if she wandered, she could fall into one of his many traps. The probability of something going very wrong very fast were high and the thought had set Erik on edge all day. But when he reviewed the situation, it was the best way. He could not always be with Haydee to keep her safe. This way, she would be safe during the day, and at night, if she wished to go upstairs and continue with her work, he would be able to watch over her.

"It is time Madam." Erik's warm voice filled the room in a quite whisper. Nodding, Madam Giry gathered up her shawl and made her way to the door. She had packed Haydee's things and had them moved to the lower floor while the girl had been sleeping. All that was left was to move the girl herself.

Walking along the deserted corridor with Erik trailing close behind, Madam Giry gave a small sigh at the blue eyed girl's fate. What had the poor child done to deserve such cruelty? Madam had told Erik not to let thoughts of hate consume him, and yet, she was having trouble with that.

Some part of her felt that she had failed the girl. After all, was she not under her care? Should she have done something more to protect the girl? _Could _she have done anything? They had never had anything happen like this before and Madam Giry was completely unprepared for the results of such a monstrous act.

And so it happened that by the time they reached Haydee's room, both parties were so deep within their own thoughts that they almost didn't notice that Haydee was not in her bed.

Panic filled Erik's mind at the sight of the empty bed. The bedclothes were rumpled and tossed to the ground, and the vanity was overturned with its contents lying spread across the ground. He was about to begin scouring the entirety of the opera when a small noise behind him. Turning swiftly, a small sigh of relief made its way from between his lips. Haydee was leaning wearily against the doorframe of the bathroom. She was here. She was safe. Though, if she was safe within her own mind, he could not tell. Her eyes seemed hollow and lifeless. He gave a silent shudder at the thought.

"Are you alright _mon chere_?" asked Madam Giry, gesturing towards the disheveled room. Nodding, Haydee replied in a monotone voice,

"Yes Madam. I simply had a bad dream. Nothing more"

Looking up, a thought crossed Haydee's mind. Looking quizzically at the pair standing in her room she dug in her mind. Why were they here?

"We have come to help move you to a safe place." said Madam Giry. Haydee hadn't realized that she had said anything out loud, so the woman's words came as a bit of a shock. Glancing from Madam Giry to the Phantom, Haydee took in his appearance. It was the same as that afternoon, only he had shed the long black dress coat. His cravat looked somewhat mussed as well, suggesting that it had been put on in a hurry. A small smile spread across the girl's face at the thought of the Opera Ghost being anything but perfectly presentable.

"We must leave Mademoiselle. Time runs short, and we must be gone by the time the Opera has awakened." Erik's voice cut into her thoughts effectively informing her that she had been staring. Something akin a smirk flashed across the man's face and then vanished again. Embarrassment was covered by confusion as she questioned Madam Giry in a soft and almost scared voice.

"What do you mean, gone? Are you going somewhere Madam?"

"_Non, mon chere. _I am not going anywhere. It is you who being moved." Seeing the quizzical and defiant look that was being tossed her way, Madam Giry continued.

"You will be staying in the opera still, so do not worry about you work my dear. You may return to the studio anytime, once your injuries have healed. Until then, you are to stay with our friend, _Monsieur le fantôme_ at his home, where you will be kept safe. Your bags have already been taken to his home, and now all that is left is to deposit you as well. Here, I have taken the liberty of preparing your clothes."

Haydee nodded. She may have been stubborn, but she could see the sense in the older woman's words.

With that, Madam Giry handed the girl a dark grey wool skirt and black cotton blouse with a pair of sturdy walking boots and a shawl. Taking the items without even thinking about what she was doing, Haydee closed the door to the bathroom and changed into the heavy traveling clothes. Entering the room once again, Haydee stood stock still as Madam Giry and _Monsieur le fantôme _argued over something in hushed French.

"_Il est trop loin pour marcher dans her état." (It is too far to walk in her state.) _

_"Alors que proposez-vous Madame? Transporter son tout le chemin moi-même?" (So what do you suggest Madam? That I carry her the entire way myself?) _Came the annoyed reply. Haydee felt her blood start to boil. She knew that the two of them both meant well…well. She knew that Madam Giry meant well, but she did not enjoy being talked about like she wasn't in the room.

_"Non, non bien sûr que non. Mais sûrement César serait capable –" (No, no of course not. But surely Caesar would be able-) _

_"César ne peut venir au début des catacombes et elle est trop lourde pour moi de porter tout le chemin. Si elle était plus petite peut-être, mais comme elle n'est pas ... elle doit marcher." (Caesar cannot come to the beginning of the catacombs and she is too heavy for me to carry all the way. If she were smaller, perhaps, but as she is not ... she must walk.)_

With a shake of his head, the Phantom stepped away from Madam Giry thinking he had won their little argument. What he did not know was that he had also won the full right to the unequivocal bounds of a certain red heads fury. How DARE he insinuate that she was large! Even if it was true, he had no right to point out the fact!

Mustering up what little strength she had left, Haydee crossed the room and planted herself directly in front of the masked man Tapping him on the shoulder, Haydee brought her hand back and with full force (or as much as she could muster at that moment) brought it swinging back on the man's uncovered cheek. Surprise and fury crossed his face but Haydee didn't notice. She was too busy thinking of her own fury to take any care of his. Anger burning bright as golden met cerulean blue eyes, the girl spat out just what she thought of their conversation.

"How dare you" she seethed, "How dare you talk about me like I am nothing more than a…than a bag of potatoes! I will inform you that I am more than capable of walking on my own, I am not an invalid! And, _ Monsieur le fantôme,_" she mocked, "no matter what you may or may not think of my weight, I am fine size and have been told so on more than one occasion! So there!"

Anger gone from her system, embarrassment took over and turned her skin an unnatural shade of crimson. What had she just said? What had she done? Oh dear god in heaven help her if she did what she thought she had. Glancing back up at the Phantoms now red marked face, she was surprised to see a mixture of amusement and anger dancing around in his eyes. She had counted on the anger. If the stories of the Phantom held any semblance to the truth (and from the way that Madam Giry had held her breath when Haydee had struck him, they did), then she should be either dead or wishing to be by this point. So what was holding him back?

"I apologize for my indiscreet behavior Mademoiselle. It shall not happen again."

Haydee was shocked at his calm voice. Nodding, she accepted his apology and was about to make one of her own for hitting him when he continued.

"However, what I said was, in fact, true, and I do not apologize for that."

Haydee sputtered. He had to be joking! This man had no sense of decency. Any thoughts of apology pushed aside, Haydee lifted her hand only to have it caught by said man. Smirking at her with angry eyes, he all but sneered at the girl.

"The same thing won't work on me twice _mon petit ami._" Erik had to chuckle to himself. Here was the girl that had proposed war upon him. His little friend was back in all her feisty glory, and he found himself liking the sight of her eyes filled with indignation and anger much better than those lifeless, hollow shells of before. Grabbing her hand, he started to lead her from the room, turning so that she could not see the smile stretched across his features.

"Come, we have a ways to walk and dawn approaches."

_And I wonder what it will bring with it._

* * *

_Show your love and review! :)_


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello everyone! **

**So, I'm back. A bloody ton has happened in the past couple weeks, and I'm terribly sorry that I haven't done this sooner. Things have just been super crazy. So anyway, here is the new chapter. It's short, mostly fluff, and I love it. I'm having to make plot fillers until I can get to my main chapters again, but I think this is still kinda relevant...kinda. **

**Andy hasn't seen this chapter yet so don't blame him if you find mistakes, kay? Or you can.**

**I'm flexible like that. **

**Reviews are really really REALLY appreciated, and they make me happy. And a happy Ryan means a writing Ryan. So yeah.**

**Anyway, I'm rambling, so ON WITH THE SHOW!**

* * *

The journey to Erik's lair was not a hard walk by any means, and yet, Haydee found that she was ready to collapse by the time the blue-greens of the underground lake came into view.

At first, the artist had been confused and shocked when the Phantom lead her to the prima donna's dressing room. And then even more so, when he lead her through a series of half lit tunnels and maze-like hallways. He had explained along the way that he had lived under the opera for many years, and knew many shortcuts and passageways that were otherwise unknown.

Haydee was still a bit disconcerted that his passageway of choice was in a ladies dressing room mirror.

After that there had been a series of catacombs and tombs, most of which looked to be hundreds of years old. Haydee tried to ask her guide about the resting places and who they housed, or how old they were, but the only answer she received was an annoyed "I do not know," and then silence. The rest of the trip was spent in almost total silence, expect for the few times when she was warned to stay close, or to "be careful how you step." Haydee was almost ready to start talking just to break the close knit fabric of silence when the lake came into view. Even in the state she was in, wonder and awe still resonated within the girl at the sight of such a large body of water. Surely such a thing was impossible!

After standing still for a good minute, Haydee was led to a small, hidden dock by the water's edge were it looked like a boat of some sort was tied up. Walking behind the Phantom, The girls breath caught when she saw the vessel. It was a small gondola made from ebony wood with iron wrought work making a swirling pattern at the bow of the small vessel. Running a hand over the dark wood, Haydee was in awe of the fine workmanship.

"I take it my _gondole _meets with your approval Mademoiselle."

Glancing up from the striking transport, Haydee gave the tall man a small smile. The blue eyed girl could see the pride in his eyes at her obvious admiration for the wooden watercraft.

Nodding, she turned her attention back on the small gondola as she climbed into it and sat on one of the cushioned boards running across the inner workings.

"It's beautiful Mousier. Whoever did you have build it? I have never seen work like this before."

The boat rocked slightly as the now smirking masked man untied the gondola and followed suit by climbing in as well, taking his place in the back so he could push off with the long paddle. He was silent for a minute longer, and Haydee thought at first he wasn't going to answer her. Turning back to look at her phantom, the red haired girl was slightly surprised to see that her guide was almost glowing with pride. Without looking down at the girl, Erik tried to keep the overabundance of pride from his voice as he answered.

"I should hope not Mademoiselle. It would be most concerning if someone had stolen my schematics."

* * *

Haydee had fallen asleep during the short ride from the dock to Erik's lair. He supposed it was for the better though. The girl was obviously tired and worn, and sleep would do her much good.

That and the sight of his lair in all its misty glory may have been a bit too dramatic for her right then.

Picking up the sleeping girl, Erik made his way to the bedroom in the back of his lair, trying desperately to be as gentle as possible so that he didn't wake his guest. Earlier in the evening, he had transported her bags from the lower cellar where they had been left, to his home. Getting the trunk onto the gondola had been somewhat of a problem, but in the end, everything made it safe and sound.

Entering the large room, Erik paused slightly as he contemplated getting her into the bed. He would either have to wake her up and face a wrathful and tired Haydee (he had learned that she was not the happy sort in the mornings) or he could just deposit her in the bed as she was.

Deciding that having her upset in the morning when she was somewhat rested was preferable to having her anger come down upon him now, Erik laid her on top of the red satin bed spread. Bending down, he softly unlaced her shoes and pulled them off, placing them beside the bed. Straightening, he was about to walk away when a shiver ran its way through Haydee, making her turn onto her side and clutch her shoulders with her hands. Sighing as he turned back around and lifted her back with on hand has he pulled the heavy covering down and over the girl. Satisfied that she would be comfortable, Erik left Haydee to sleep.

Making his way out to the main room overlooking the lake, Erik sighed as he settled down onto a large divan and leaned back. He would never admit it, but he was tired. True, he was used to going days on end without sleep, but there was something about the past two days that had made him just so very _tired._ He hadn't felt like this since he had been in Persia.

Shutting out the depressing thoughts that came to the forefront of his mind, Erik leaned down and pulled off his boots, setting them aside. Taking off his cloak and jacket, he brought himself back unto the plush red cushions and closed his eyes. He was almost asleep when a sudden thought sprinted across his mind.

Christine! He was supposed to have a lesson with Christine tonight!

Erik's eyes popped open as he jumped up from the comfortable divan and grabbed the pocket watch from his waistcoat. Two thirty-four. Christine would have been waiting for over two hours now. Not even bothering to put on his cloak again, Erik threw on his boots and jacket, working his arms through the long sleeves as he ran through the hidden entrance that led to the stage. It would take too long to use the gondola, so the back way it was. Walking briskly, he made his way to his little student's room.

He had placed a false wall into the room, granting him access without being seen for their lessons. He had done so without Madam Giry's knowledge, sure in the fact that she would have never allowe him to do so.

Sliding into the space, Erik took a deep breath before calling out to his beautiful girl.

_"Christine…"_

Erik waited for what felt like hours before a whispered reply made its way back to him.

"Angel? Angel, are you here?"

Erik's breath caught in his throat. She was awake. She had waited for him, even after hours had passed. Feeling almost giddy at the thought, the phantom rested his head against the wall and just listened to the sound of his loves breathing. For he did love her. He loved her more than life and would have given her the moon and the stars had she asked. She was beauty and innocence and he loved her.

_"I'm sorry I could not come sooner. My service was needed in another life."_

As he sang, his thoughts wandered to the girl currently sleeping in his lair. What he had said was true. The girl needed an angel. And yet she had somehow had become stuck with him instead.

_"But know this now my dear young student. I would much rather be with you."_

Again, it was true, but only half. Yes, he would rather be with Christine, but some small part of him wanted to be back at his lair, just in case Haydee woke up. He did not want her to wake up in a strange place with no one around.

"Thank you Angel. But if I may ask, what do you mean Angel? Has someone fallen ill?"

The innocence and worry of the brown eyed girl's words washed over Erik, engulfing him. This was why he loved her. She cared about others, people she did not even know, and still she cared. If he could but hear her talk forever, he would be happy. But then, the happiness in his mind was soured with the knowledge of the cause of her worry.

_"_Yes Child. A young lady like yourself has fallen gravely ill. And I fear that she may never recover."

* * *

**So, just a quick note.**

**When Erik sings, it's to the tune of Angel of Music reprise. Thought that might be helpful for all ya'll.**

**Also, I don't imagine that Erik had a swan bed. I mean, come on. **

**Erik. **

**Swan bed.**

**No.**

**So, in my mind, it's more like a phoenix, or something along that line. Also, this story is going to have a lot of the bookverse attributes. Please don't get scared though. It will still be awesome. **

**Again, sorry for the wait.**

**Until next time,**

**Ryan**


End file.
